


The Fairytale of Your Bones

by Dreadful Weather Today (TearoomSaloon)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood, Dark, Dark Romance, F/M, Horror, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/Dreadful%20Weather%20Today
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How can you be so blind? You've seen how he moves. You know him best and you know I'm right. I can't...I can't handle the idea of finding you in the snow. Broken. Alone. Knowing he did this. Knowing I could have stopped this. Please, Alana."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Feeding on fever,  
> Down all fours.  
> Show you what all that  
> Howl is for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone seen Red Riding Hood?
> 
> Don't. It was subpar. It had potential, but the execution wasn't great. I was disappointed, and decided I could do better. This is pretty heavily inspired by the film, but will hopefully be structured better.
> 
> Pay attention to the smoothness of tone, or the lack there of. It's going to be very important.

It had eyes like a human and a look that would paralyze the bravest of men. Its teeth were sharp and its howl was red, staining the moon with blood and lust. Its voice was low and rumbling, sarcastic and pretentious. No one left the village at night; no one left their houses on the full moon. But somehow the beast still managed to drag victims into the forest, gut them, and leave the corpses half-eaten on the edge of the wood.

The wolf, the wolf, the villagers spoke of little else. How to kill the wolf, how to identify the wolf, how to drive the wolf from them, hopefully to someone else, somewhere else. Away, away.

It was quiet for a moment, for a few months, but their bane never went away.

The wolf sat hiding, fangs bared, hide bristled, maroon eyes shining in the moonlight. Every time someone got too close, touched too much— _snap_. A neck broke. Blood burbled. A body was found.

Someone tell Red Riding Hood her prince wears thick furs, drinks thick wine, and mutters thick words into the night. Someone tell Red Riding Hood he protects her in the dark. Someone tell Red Riding Hood he’ll spare her loved ones, she need only step into the woods with him and never turn back.


	2. Sticks and Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the land of inconsistent tone, please point out any errors you find.

Quick, quick.

Frantic feet sped through the dark forest. She’d lingered on the edge too long, too preoccupied with the dark red berries to hear the steps. Caught too unaware, caught in the open, alone. The sun had settled behind the pines and she should have more time, but she didn’t.

The wolf had come.

She could hear it now; hear its light paws and huge body between her heavy breaths. It was agile, like a fox, like a hare, skilled and fast and merciless. If it took her in its teeth, she would be lost forever in the tar-black woods, her corpse never to be found. They’d forget her face, then her name. She ran faster, blue cloak billowing behind.

She barreled across the village line and scrambled up a rocky cluster, leaping over the tall pike wall and landing badly on her knees. Fingers of ice speared through her joints but she stood into a sprint, weaving in and out of the houses barricaded for the night. How could she have been so _stupid?_

She skidded to a halt at her own house, pounding on the door. She could still hear its breathing, hear its footfalls, hear the deep rumbles of its throat. She yanked the torch from the holder by the door and wielded it like a weapon, ready to fight for her life.

The door swung open and she stumbled inside, adrenaline and fear pulsing through her nervous system, mind going into shock. She didn’t notice as the torch was taken from her grip and the door was shut and locked, thick planks holding it against the beast outside. A hand was on her forehead when she came to her senses.

“We thought you were _dead_ , Louisa.” Her younger sister draped a thick fur blanket over her shoulders, her hands steady as still water.

“You should go tell Mother you’re all right,” Charlie said slowly, laying the last of the heavy beams across the door. “She’s been panicking upstairs for an hour.”

Louisa nodded at her siblings, exhaling slowly. Her legs shook as she exited the room, hands clammy and vision slightly blurred. 

 

Alana slumped into the chair by the fire, her heart beating faster with every passing minute. The knocking, the howl on the village edge—the night was too fast and full of panic and fear. She hadn’t expected her sister to come home, nor had Charlie. They’d waited downstairs as a show for their mother, who had been distressed for hours. Her unease was suffocating, contagious, and it infected the entire house. She couldn’t handle another scare like this, not in the same week.

“I can’t hear my thoughts anymore,” Charlie muttered as he fell into the armchair across from her. “The world’s rushing at a million miles an hour.”

“My blood’s gone cold.”

“I can’t feel my fingers.”

"She’s such an _idiot_.” Alana sat up, pulling her knees onto the chair. “We’re right on the cusp of the full moon, she _knows_ there have been sightings in the surrounding towns, it’s dangerous to be out past sundown _anyway_ —”

“Says the girl who just did the same idiotic thing a week ago.”

“I never saw it. It never ran after me. It came after _Louisa_ , not me. It wasn’t time. I was foolish, but I wasn’t outright _stupid_.”

“Louisa is…special.”

“She’s careless and oblivious. She thinks nothing can harm her.”

“And she’s also as strict and condescending as Mother.”

Alana groaned. “She’s a losing game. I’m going to be forced to keep an eye on her for a week after this, maybe more.”

“And me too, you know Mom’s going to saddle us both with that task.”

“As long as she doesn’t find anymore wolves, we’ll be okay.”

“Barely.” Charlie closed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. He looked tired, worn.

He’d been panicking over finally leaving for an apprenticeship, only to be roped tighter to home, now panicking over the safety of his idiot sisters. Alana would admit her foolishness, but Louisa would cover it, and she knew it exhausted him.

“Don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll take care of Louisa.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He yawned. “You take first watch.”

“I’ll wake you in an hour.”

She stood and stretched, feeling the weariness in her bones. It was still early—barely eight—and she knew the night would feel endless after the adrenaline crash. Tomorrow would be never-ending, running around with Louisa, running around for Mother, running around by herself. She wanted to find the paw prints the beast left, since it had _definitely_ gunned after her sister. No one had seen it, only heard its terrible growls. No one knew how big it was past the idea of _big_ , and she wanted to make an educated guess.

The village outside was dark, the wind howling through the valley. She shivered, feeling the ghosting of a cold chill down her spine. It appeared calm, but somewhere out there lurked the wolf. The wolf made of terrible teeth and bright rapeseed eyes.

She’d seen those eyes before. Dark rubies with piercing yellow slits where the pupils should have been, sliced like a cat’s. They were easily the size of chicken eggs, maybe larger. They bored into her, punched a hole through her chest. Her stomach had sunk into the ocean when they glared at her through the trees, alive and hungry.

She swallowed thickly, remembering the fear that had ricocheted through her ribs, threatening to split open her chest. The fear that she _knew_ those eyes. It clung to her until she found sleep under her brother’s protection.

 

* * *

 

The sun rose too early for Alana’s tastes. A few more hours—minutes, even—would have been nice. She found herself facedown on the floor beside the dying fire, a blanket tossed carelessly on her back. She sat up and stretched, knowing there was nothing to help the ache in her neck and lower back. Charlie was tiptoeing through the kitchen, a pot of water on a slow boil.

“We’re running out of tea,” he told her quietly, pouring out two cups. “The merchants from the south haven’t been up in months.”

“Because of the wolf?”

“Because of the winter. The snowfall down in the lower valleys is twice as bad as usual, and they’re not prepared like we are.”

“We’re _hardly_ prepared.” She yawned, resting her head on the counter. “We just have a better landscape to deal with it.”

“That, and we’re used to it, so it doesn’t bother us as much.” He sat down across from her, picking bits of loose tea from his cup. “The wolf isn’t helping, of course. A big furry ball of death isn’t exactly the most inviting mascot.”

“Does wonders for tourism in the summer.”

“Which is always funny, because that’s when it’s least present.”

“The less dead people, the better. I’ll be happy when that thing’s finally gone.”

"Won’t we all?”

Their father was the third one up in the morning, dressed and ready to start another long, boring day at counsel. He didn’t speak much, only enough to tell both children that they needed to look after Louisa and not worry their mother. Charlie nodded and Alana rolled her eyes, questioning why she had to babysit her _older_ sister.

"Because she’s been scatterbrained as of late, and it would take a weight off your mother’s mind if you did,” Frank Bloom snapped, spreading butter over a biscuit. “We’re all stressed.”

Louisa confirmed this when she entered the kitchen. She sat beside Alana and let the upper half of her body rest on the countertop. She was still in her nightclothes, utterly exhausted and unable to sleep. She muttered something like nightmares to the pine wood and stood, walking heavily to the kettle for coffee.

“I’m not going anywhere today.” She bit hard into an apple, curling up on the stool. “I’m not leaving the house, I’m not even sure if I’ll be leaving my room.”

“Then we don’t have to accompany you everywhere?”

She turned slowly to Charlie, eyes narrowed, long red-gold hair falling all around her face. “Please don’t follow me to the bathroom.”

Alana looked between her siblings and smiled. “ _I’m_ going out then, before Mom wakes up.”

Charlie sighed. “Don’t say with the Lecter boy.”

“What if I say with the Lecter boy? And he has a name, you know.”

“I just…I don’t like the _look_ of him. He’s so…pristine. And haughty.”

“You and Will keep saying the same thing.”

“He has nice cheekbones.”

Charlie and Alana turned to their sister, each with an eyebrow raised.

She crossed her arms. “You cannot argue against that.”

Alana opened her mouth then closed it, turning back to her brother. “I’m going to see _Will_ , in fact, since Mother’s trying to set us up so badly. Hannibal left early this morning with his uncle to one of the towns down south.”

“If you reek of dog when you come back, mom’ll have your head.” Charlie handed her his last piece of toast. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Best older brother.” She kissed his cheek and left, dressing and sneaking from the house.

 

* * *

 

“Are you _sure_ it went this way?”

Will sat on a rock, watching as Alana snooped, her face parallel with the ground. “Positive. It had to come in over here, it’s the only place where the wall is short.”

“Ten feet is hardly short.”

“Short for a monster.” She stood, gazing up at the tall spiked wood. “We can climb over.”

“No, we absolutely cannot.” He folded his arms. “It’d be incredibly dangerous.”

“And that’s the fun in it.” Alana clambered up the boulder to stand beside him. “It’d be quick, we’d be back within the hour. It’s only, what, ten in the morning? The sun won’t set soon.”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

"I’m going whether you are or not.”

A pained look crossed his face. “I’m not letting you go _alone_ ,” he said, giving in, “but this doesn’t mean I’m endorsing your obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession.”

“Whatever.”

Alana lobbed a stone over the wall before scrambling down, making sure they’d reach the correct place. There were no questions asked as they passed through the village gates. She broke into a run when they were out of sight, bringing a curse from his mouth.

He stopped, breathless, and frowned. “It should be here.”

“Maybe this wasn’t the right spot.”

“No, the _stone_ should be right here. Look, there’s an indent.” Will pointed to a sunken hole and trailing pile of snow where something the right size and shape of the aforementioned rock landed. But there was no rock. There was no rock _and_ there were no indications of something removing the rock. The snow was bare and fresh, devoid of all signs of life.

“This is too freaky.”

“Are you _sure_ it was here?”

“Impact, indent, nothing. Even if this weren’t the right place—which it _is_ , look at the wall here—there’s still the case of the missing _whatever was there_. Things don’t _happen_ like that.” He crossed his arms. “We should head back.”

“Why, because of one disappearing stone?”

“ _Yes!_ There aren’t even _chipmunk_ paw prints around here. Or _birds_. I can’t hear anything, can you? Something is very wrong, and it’s about to get worse.”

Alana bit her lip, searching for something to prove him wrong, something to allow this investigation to progress. He was right. It was eerily quiet, and he was right. “Tomorrow?”

“No, there’s not going to be a tomorrow. Your mother will murder us if we get killed.”

“…Fine. If something conclusive comes up, we go after it though, deal?”

He grit his teeth, unhappy. “No.”

“Or _I_ go after it alone.”

“This isn’t fair.”

She rolled her eyes. “Only when the sun’s up, only with your dogs, and only if we have knives.”

“Only if someone knows where we are. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The wind stirred on the walk back, swaying the trees and stirring up the snows. Alana swore she caught the faintest scent of sweetgrass and mulberries on the breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone tell me I'm not fucking up please


	3. The Riverbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tone is choppy on purpose trust me there's a point to it

The doctor’s son ran a bare palm across his mouth and frowned at the red staining his pale skin. He knelt to the riverbed and washed the life from his face, peering hazily as the crimson threads dispersed into the clear water. They vanished, the current taking the evidence downstream. It was cold under the trees and the ground was caked with snow. The boy let out a long, shaky sigh and stood, pulling his furs tight around him. He focused his vision on his fingers, staring intently at the dirt and flesh crusted under his nails. The blood trickled into the tiny lines of his skin, catching on his knuckles.

He would have whimpered had he no fear of drawing attention to himself. The dead thing lay paces behind him—he hadn’t the stomach to check  _what_ —and he’d rather not be questioned.

With a throat like hot gravel, he took off for home, clutching tightly the pendant around his neck.

 

Years upon years disappeared from time, the late doctor’s son still washed his face in the same bend of the river. His eyes were wiser now, though somewhat lackluster and heavy. His jaw was always set and the thin line of his mouth was too tired to curve down as he examined his face on the surface of the water. He curled his lips and studied the edges of his teeth. They were no sharper than they ought to be, though his jaw ached with a leftover tightness from the hunt. With a gloved hand, he refastened the brooch of his coat, setting a long course for home.

“They spotted you last night,” his uncle said as he opened the door for his charge. He thought the boy looked too old for his age, too weary. He carried his father’s years in his shoulders as he brushed passed, wandering inside as though wandering through a dream.

“Did they? Who this time?”

He removed his thick layers and crept back to the kitchen in want of something warm to drink.

“The pretty Bloom girl.”

He paused a moment to search his memory, recalling a cloak of sapphire, not red. “Alana?”

“No, the other one.”

“She is the pretty one. Do you mean Louisa?”

“Yes, the pretty one.”

The boy scowled at his uncle, watching him with narrowed wine eyes. “Louisa is tall and elegant but her face is too harsh. Her beauty is sharp, her sister’s is soft.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to be told about the attractiveness of young girls. You are slinking away from the subject.”

“The older girl thinks she saw me. And?”

“Well, did she?”

“Yes.” He stood before his uncle, ears perked to the kettle. “I got hungry and snapped.”

“Have you been home between last night and now?”

“No, I was out covering my tracks. I thought you’d have left when I got back.”

Robert, barely taller than his nephew, had to look down his nose to glare. “I wouldn’t leave without you. I had to delay the trip.”

“And with it, my alibi.”

“Don’t leave the house.”

“Where are  _you_  going?”

“To the south.”

“What about not leaving without me.”

“Ah, I omitted a part—not leaving without you coming  _home_.”

 

“You did  _what?_ ”

Charlie had pulled Alana around to the back of the house in hopes that their mother wouldn’t hear him losing his temper. He could put up with so, so much of her raving and poor decisions, but a line had been crossed.

“Threw a stone, went outside the wall for five minutes, came home. Nothing special.”

“I don’t care about that, Alana, you’re missing the point. You went _looking?_  Are you  _mad?_ ”

“No! I wanted to verify Louisa’s claim—”

"You heard the damn thing howl last night, isn’t that proof enough?” Charlie sighed and rubbed his temples. “Look. I know you’re intrigued. I know you have to be smarter than everyone—”

“I do  _not_.”

“Shut up, you do. I know you want to know everything but  _please_ , Alana, this is  _actually_  dangerous. This could get your body dumped in the river to float. Look at me—” He put his hands on her shoulders, ducking so he was eye level. “Do you understand the kind of trouble you’re getting into?”

“Yes.”

“Then  _why_  are you doing it?”

“Because I—” She dropped her eyes, dropped her voice. “I want it dead. I want it dead so it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“Leave that to the hunters, they’re skilled in killing things, unlike you. Who are they, anyway?”

“The one you think looks haughty and his uncle.”

Charlie frowned. “Seriously? They’re both sticks.”

Alana shrugged. “They’re pretty good about other big game. I wouldn’t worry about it. Are you done shouting at me now? I left my friend in the front.”

With a grumble, Charlie dismissed her. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, the kind he got when he gave extra thought on about what lay beyond those walls. She wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t listen until it was too late, and he just prayed an end came before it became ‘too late’.

Alana stalked to the front porch where she’d been dragged from Will. He was pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. He looked up when he heard her, his eyes and lips riddled with anxiety.

“Your brother yelled at you, didn’t he?”

“Could you hear him?”

“A bit,” Will admitted, dancing on his toes. He looked more paranoid than before, and it was making her uneasy.

“You’ve gone skittish. Why’ve you gone skittish?”

“My dad was in there when you got called round back.”

“Did he see you?”

“No! No, he didn’t see me, but I heard them talking.”

“About?”

"They intend to marry us off.”

Alana frowned. That wasn’t news. “I assumed we’d both get married off at some point, all things considered.”

“No,  _to_  each other.”

“Us two. Us two good friends for ages.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t know how my  _boyfriend_  is going to feel about that.”

“Oh, hell. Right.” Will sucked in a breath and glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know either, but I feel like I should head home, just in case either parent tries to broach the subject. I’d like the opportunity to talk my dad out of it and, well, you know your mom.”

“I do. She’s not going to take my screaming lightly.”

“Screaming? For heaven’s sake, don’t make it into something huge.”

“But it is huge. It’s our  _lives_ , that’s huge. And we’re not getting a say.”

“I don’t think I’d mind all that much, to be honest.”

“Oh, we’d kill together, but that’s not my issue. My issue is she does this, every time, without asking. Every time there is a monstrous decision directly impacting me, she marches ahead. This time, no. We’re going to have a shouting match.”

"Don’t get grounded again, please. And for the love of God, don’t tell Hannibal.”

“I’m not stupid.”

Alana watched and he vanished between the houses, retreating to his side of town. Something was making him jumpier than usual, worse than when they discovered the lack of stone, and it wasn’t this new development. When she returned inside, she sunk into her chair by the fireplace, the gravity of the morning and Charlie’s words falling hard on her shoulders.

 

“You seem bothered.”

"Tired, more like.” The late doctor’s son held the heavy door open for his friend. “You knew I’d be home?”

“I made an educated guess.” Will’s lips were taut, eyes pinpoint and dark.

Hannibal did not like this expression, showing disgust with the barest flash of teeth. “I am dreadfully exhausted, and though I do fancy your company, I am not in the mood for word games.”

Will didn’t remove his coat. “Where were you last night?”

“Home, preparing for a trek I wasn’t allowed to make due to oversleeping. Robert did not grant me rest until the early morning hours.”

He could smell it on him, smell the fear and nervousness. He also smelled lilies and lemongrass—Alana—and he wondered if she too carried the same anxieties.

"You’re nervous and you’ve been at the Bloom residence.”

"Not inside.”

“Funny, you positively  _reek_  of my girlfriend.” He cringed internally at the word. He hated that word. How long until he could refer to her as something more permanent?

“Well, yes, I  _was_  with Alana.”

“Doing what?”

He lied. “Nothing interesting, just talking.”

Hannibal shook his head, trying to clear a growing tenseness in his muscles. “Was there a purpose to this visit? For if not, I’d like to go back to bed.”

“Yes, actually, I came to you with work. One of the dogs’ joints are growing stiff.”

With a short exhale, he turned, descending into the cellar. They were running out of so many herbs and roots, it would be a blessing for Robert to return with anything substantial. It didn’t help that he himself was draining the stores, trying to keep from going mad every month, or from bleeding profusely.

“Taken topically twice a day, I’ll put it on your bill, and next time, please come at normal business hours.”

Will took the offered jar with a thank you, making a hasty retreat into the midday sun.

Hannibal returned upstairs wearing a perpetual frown, agitated and frustrated by the way Will was shrinking under his gaze, returning to the size of a mouse while under his beastly eyes. Sinking into the claw-footed bed, he decided to pry Alana for information when he rose.

He loathed not knowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is awesome all the cool kids are doing it


	4. Blood on the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much story building. Ugh.

Beverly was waiting on the porch when Will came back, the older dog walking around her legs. She watched him curiously, looking for an indicator, but his face was blank. “So?”

“So…” He trailed off, looking down at his feet. When he turned up, he was grinning. “They said yes.”

“Yes?”

He nodded, bending to pet one of the dogs. “They talked for a while and eventually agreed.”

“How’s she taking it?”

“Eh. You know how she’s attached already.”

“That’s not going to go over well.”

“No, it’s not. I just saw him—” he held up the bottle, “—and he’s already suspicious of _something_. His nose is too good.”

“He’s always given me the creeps, ever since he first showed up. How do you stay friends with him?”

“By being innocuous.” Will looked around at the snowy ground, at the sun beginning to fall in the sky. “I’ve got a sinking feeling about him. Something’s not right.”

“Don’t go looking for it.”

“No,” he agreed. “Not yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Alana stood between her mother and a table, not wishing to get any closer. Her temper wasn’t physical, but it bled out from her person, infectious and hot.

“And why on earth _not?_ ” Geneviève stepped closer as her daughter stepped back.

“You’ve got motive, haven’t you? Louisa should be going first, but it’s me. I’m first.”

“We came to an agreement, and we both thought this was a good arrangement.”

“But you didn’t ask _me_. It’s the rest of _my_ life, not yours. What if I don’t want to marry Will?”

“You are good friends, you’ve known him for years—”

“But I—” Alana stopped, not wanting to throw everything unnecessarily out a window. It was important not to ruin this, it was important not to muck up. “I have someone else.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But _why?_ ” She snarled, standing her ground. “I have someone else, I’m involved.”

“You’ve been going behind my back?” Her mother tilted her head, eyes made of embers and flint. “For how long?”

“A few months? Maybe longer.”

“ _Maybe?_ ”

“I haven’t been keeping track!”

“The answer is no, Alana. No. We’re doing this my way, and I’ve already promised you off.”

With a final glare and bear of teeth, she stormed out of the house.

 

* * *

 

A little boy was covered in blood on the porch, miles from home. Tear tracks washed the grime from his face, but his eyes were red-rimmed and his gaze was hollow. He flinched when the door had opened, crying out once more. The man in the threshold had hardly outgrown the title of boy, but he composed himself for the sake of the child. They were both so young.

“It should have been me,” he said quietly as he washed the boy’s face. “It should have been me after Richard died, not you. You’re so young, little nephew.”

The boy’s face crinkled as he began to cry. “Will the bad men come for me too?”

“No.” He pulled the child into his arms. “No, I won’t let them. I’ve got you. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

 

He was alone on the mountaintop, frost sinking into his bones. His tongue tasted of dirt, and the acrid smell of blood was buried deep in his nostrils. Numb and full of dull hatred, he started down the frozen slope, on autopilot the whole trek home.

  

Robert returned to a quiet house. Leading the horses around back, he saw the reason for the stillness in the air. The tall trees that led back into the woods were scored deep, sap oozing out their wounds. Branches were scattered like bodies, fatalities marked with teeth and claws. Blood was dried and brown in the white snow.

The boy sat in front of the fire inside, eyes glazed over and body bandaged. A pelt—new, glossy, and sable—rested across his hips. He didn’t move when Robert entered the room, he didn’t move when he stood beside him, didn’t move when a hand was laid on his shoulder.

“I have a business to keep, and you’re endangering it.”

“I lost myself,” he said quietly, not turning from the dancing flames. “I lost _everything_. My control, my temper.”

“Did you eat any of the animals?”

“ _No._ ” He twisted his head to look at his uncle. His fair hair was thick and dark with blood and dirt. “I didn’t eat anything.”

"The blood outside?”

“It’s mine.” Gently, he brought his hands out from under the fur. They were bandaged and pink. “I cut myself on the rocks by the waterfall.”

He’d gotten that far? “On purpose?”

“By accident. I don’t remember much.”

He rubbed his temples, overwhelmed. His brother’s son was older now—more mature—but he was the same frightened, bloodied boy that appeared at his door twelve years ago. “Was this a routine transformation?”

“Absolutely not.” He wiped at a cheek, scowling. “I got upset, blacked out, and found myself by the outcrop, the one by mountain to the east. I’ve only recently turned back.”

“When did this happen?”

“A day or two after you left.”

“You were changed for a straight week?”

“Yes, as far as I’m aware. I told you, I don’t remember.”

Robert sighed, glancing out the window. The damage looked worse from far away. “Must have been a hell of a reason to tear up the woods.”

“I think so.”

“You can’t do that again. I’m inclined to put you back on the elixir.”

“Please, _please_ don’t. I get so sick on that.”

“I don’t have another option, do I? You’re close to exposing yourself. The village already wants to go on a hunt, and you’re pushing your neck out for them to cut. They’ll know if they catch you. They’ll know who you are, what you are.”

“I know.”

“Then control yourself, boy.”

“I’m _trying_.”

“You’ll end up killing yourself if you stay like that for so long again.”

He stood, then, unraveling the tape over his ribs. Thick purple-red scores cut across his left side, the largest of which was bleeding. “One of them opened again and I can’t get it to stop. I’m out of ointment.”

“You’re incredibly lucky I acquired horsetail on my trip.”

Hannibal’s shoulders fell and he sighed, the tenseness and anxiety running out of his muscles. “Thank you.”

“There will be a point where I can’t help you, do you understand? A point where you’ll be lost completely.”

“I’m burning right towards it, aren’t I?”

“Faster than you know. I hope your tantrum was worth it.”

“I hope so too.”


End file.
